


Of Course, He Makes a Better Vampire Than I Do

by IAmOnlyPartlyMajestic



Series: Of Course, He Makes a Better Vampire Than I Do [1]
Category: Battle Creek (TV)
Genre: A really suckish one, Episode 1 AU, Get it?, I made Russ a vampire, M/M, Pre-Slash, and not sparkly suckish, but lame no powers suckish, haha suckish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 11:59:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3728116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmOnlyPartlyMajestic/pseuds/IAmOnlyPartlyMajestic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Russ is a vampire who has lived in Battle Creek since before the 1900s (He was actually one of the first police officers hired in the history of the town). Being a vampire really sucks (no pun intended or is it?) as the closest things to powers he has is the ability to creep and not die. Well, an FBI agent has been transferred to the small town and Russ resents the human for being a better vampire than he is with his good looks and mind control that Russ knows the younger man has! How else could Milt get everybody in Battle Creek to talk?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Course, He Makes a Better Vampire Than I Do

**Author's Note:**

> I love this show! And for this fic, I even researched the history of Battle Creek. So the Chief Farrington Russ mentions, was William H. Farrington, who was appointed the first chief of the Battle Creek Police in 1900. Yup, Russ is that old. 
> 
> WHOOO! My first fanfic in a super duper long time. So, I'll warn you now: it's rough and unbetaed. I just wanted to see if I could still creatively write or if all of my powers have been exhausted by essays. Also, this is only my second slash story (or in this case pre-slash?), the first one I wrote was five years ago. 
> 
> This story has been inspired by Casey_Wolfe's story, Claimed (if there could be a werewolf!Milt, why can't there be a vampire!Russ?), and the novel, Reformed Vampire Support Group (where vampires are the opposite of the powerful and glamorous ones on TV).

 

 

Russ glared at Milt from the edge of his chipped white mug.

The FBI transfer was Goddamn Edward Cullen.

From his sleek hair to his gleamingly white teeth to the tall confident stride Milt adopted everywhere he went. Everything about Milton Chamberlain was perfect.

Russ was just waiting to see Milt’s clear skin sparkle under the sun (which thankfully doesn’t actually happen to real vampires).

The Battle Creek detective cursed the world about the fact that the newbie made a better vampire than he did.

He continued to watch Milt talk to the Commander. Milt may be human, but there was definitely something off about him. The only thing Russ was sure of ever since they visited the crime scene, was that FBI agent Chamberlain pissed him the fuck off.

****************************

At the crime scene, Milt offered each of them two of what looked like small shower caps from the black bag he was holding. Russ refused a pair, both to spite Milt and because he just didn’t need it. Ever since his transformation he became stealthier and more careful while moving around. He had no worries about contaminating the crime scene.

Of course, out of all of the vampire powers he could have gained to bring criminals to justice, he only inherited the power to creep.

Russ watched the others in betrayal as they slid around in the foot-shower-cap things and after one more frustrated sigh, he walked into the apartment.

His nostrils flared for a second as he got used to the scent of exposed blood. No matter how many bloody crime scenes he visited in the last hundred something years–which despite the amount of time, wasn’t a whole lot being the boring city he lives in-it always took him a while to ignore his thirst.

He promptly went around the room in his uncovered dress shoes and proceeded to explain the crime scene. Russ only took a fleeting glance at Funkhauser, Jacocks, and Niblet since he already knew they would be taking notes and he would have paid more attention to the FBI fucker if he knew what the other was going to do.

Milt questioned his theory.

Milt ignored Russ’s deductions, believing his forensic team would know better. Milt _ignored_ Russ’s _deductions_ …the deduction techniques he had spent a century on perfecting (ever since he was hired by Chief Farrington when he started out as a police officer).The older–much older–detective had no belief in the new “high tech” systems that forensics may have. All they needed were a new set of Tasers and a new pack of batteries.

You could never go wrong working the old fashioned way. That was a fact. A fact which Russ was all the more willing to uphold when he thought of punching Milt in the face when the taller man kept interrupting him with techy nonsense in the laser tagged living room. And he got the tenants to talk with his fucking mind control powers. What Russ, the _actual_ _vampire_ , didn’t have!

He really _really_ hated this guy.

 

***************************

Russ noticed Milt walk toward him, so he quickly dropped his eyes to the mug he almost forgot he was holding and took a hurried sip.

“God, this takes like shit.” And it wasn’t due to the refrigerated cow blood he mixed into it. The coffee in in this police department was a thousand times shittier than the equipment.

“You ready to go?” Milt shook the car keys in his hands for emphasis and grinned toothily. Russ half expected to see fangs lengthen beneath the curl of his lips. Fangs similar to the ones he would see when he would look at himself in the mirror every morning. Russ must have stared a bit too long when the grin faltered slightly. Before Milt could say anything, Russ shook his head, put the mug down, and headed outside, trying to ignore the footsteps behind him. He couldn’t believe he was going to start working with the Twilight wannabe.

“Why me?” Yes, why did Milt pick Russ? Russ knew how much of a pain-in-the-ass he could be and that’s after you subtract the “Hey, guess what? I’m a fucking vampire” bit. He also didn’t hide the hatred he had for the FBI agent, so for Milt to ask for Russ as a partner just seemed impossible. Well, until now anyway.

“I trusted my gut.”

His gut? Ha! Russ didn’t think Milt even had one under his probably equally as perfect body. He knew everything was just logic and DNA analysis to the younger man, so he couldn’t believe what Milt was spewing out of his mouth.

Now Russ…Russ knew what trusting one’s gut really entailed. It was what kept him a police officer and later on a detective in his long life here in Battle Creek. It was what helped him survive among his unsuspecting comrades in arms.

Best of all, his gut prevented himself from breaking his unbeating heart into even more pieces.

***************************

Of course he did.

Of fucking course Milt had to play the fucking hero!

It didn’t help that the agent was basically the only one solving the damn case, the bastard had the nerve to rub it all on the vampire’s face too.

Milt was so much better than him. Right when he stepped on the gravel road of Battle Creek, he already took the spotlight with his fake smiles and dumb technology. Being so fucking perfect and taking everything away from him. Taking Battle Creek away from him when he spent his whole life and unlife trying to protect the small town he watched grow.

But Russ just couldn’t hate Milt. He thought he hated Milt. He _wished_ he hated Milt, but he couldn’t stop himself from admitting that the FBI transfer was doing a better job at saving his city.

Russ wouldn’t know what to do if he really did owe Milt for saving his career.

Even with all of his luck and looks, Milt was just a simple human. Still, with his short life so far, Milt was already doing so much more than Russ had ever done in his century here in Battle Creek. The vampire knew that whatever faults Milt has behind his too friendly smiles that never reached his eyes, Russ had worse…

Gunshots fired rapidly from a passing car.

A bullet just barely nicked Milt’s shoulder, but a lot of blood was beginning to flow out of the wound.

Fuck!

Russ slapped his hand over his nose to prevent himself from inhaling any more of the smell. The normally uncomfortable feeling of his fangs forcing itself out of his gums was overpowered by the deliciousness of it all.  

The detective’s eyelids drooped as he breathed in more and more of Milt’s scent. It sure as hell didn’t help that the agent’s face was getting closer and closer to his own.

Why the hell was he so close? Everything started to slow down around him. The zooms of the cars driving by were fading and so were the kid’s freaked out yelling. He even almost didn’t hear Milt speaking to him.

“Russ! Just keep your eyes open…eyes open. Everything’s going to be okay.” At Milt’s words, Russ’s senses rushed back to him. He could hear the honking cars, the frightened whispers of a couple who happened to walk down the street at the wrong time…hell, he could hear the Spanish soap opera playing in the static covered television of the old lady who lived in the third floor apartment down the street.

His hunger for Milt’s blood had apparently overrode his whole system. During those eternal few minutes all he thought were his fangs sinking into the long flawless neck. He would be able to pierce through the soft skin as if it were softened butter. Then the liquid would gush into his mouth and possibly leak past his fastened lips. And he would keep drinking and drinking. He almost moaned at the thought, he hasn’t had fresh human blood from the source in _years_.

But he ignored it all for the feel of Milt’s hands which were placing firm pressure on his shoulder. He followed the length of Milt’s long arms from his shoulder (which thank God, stopped bleeding furiously) to his now wrinkly clothed and blood stained forearms, and finally to his own shoulder.

Well shit, he just now noticed he had a gaping hole in his shoulder.

He got shot. He was still pissed. And he was still incredibly thirsty.

Now people couldn’t fault Russ for having passed out. He warned them all. Being a vampire sucked.

***************************

Russ groaned when he opened his eyes. A large amount of sunlight shined through the large glass windows and irritated his pounding headache, which at this time felt like a hangover he couldn’t get. Alcohol didn’t affect him, another con of being a vampire.

In exchange of his alcohol intolerance though, he had the ability to heal quickly. How else could he have stayed alive for so long? He knew his gunshot wound was already fully healed–the bullet must have gone straight through–leaving behind just a scar, so he focused on his surroundings. Where was he? The large bedroom was all white save for the hardwood flooring and the windows were half covered by long blue curtains. The bed he was lying on was bigger than his own place. Even before the familiar scent hit his nose, he already knew where he was.

“I’m so screwed.” Russ was becoming more aware of Milt because of his blood and that’s never happened to him before. He rubbed his eyes and heaved out a loud sigh before rolling out of bed.

He knew Milt must have seen his body “miraculously” heal itself, it would be impossible if he didn’t. Not that dangerous situations like what occurred last night never happened to the vampire detective, but because of his ability to heal, he was able to just shake it off and walk away before people could question him about it. Last night, Russ was just too distracted by all of the blood spilling and he forgot to refill himself with some more animal blood earlier that day. That must have been why he was so out of it.

Yeah…that’s it.

 Milt greeted him with a bright smile that blinded Russ more than the sun he woke up to.

“Good morning, Russell. I was about to get ready to pick up Ricky, so we could have another meeting.” Russ ignored the “Russell” and just watched Milt put on his golden cufflinks–probably made of actual gold instead of the cheaply painted on like the pair Russ occasionally wears–not bothering to reply. “Well,” Milt continued, “there’s cereal in the cupboard or you could make yourself some eggs…”

Russ scoffed, “You know damn well, I don’t eat.” He expected Milt to hound him about last night and he was ready to defend himself from questions, so for Milt to start a normal conversation, it surprisingly irritated him.

“I…figured.” Milt looked pointedly at Russ’s shoulder and the vampire noticed he had no shirt on. Self-conscious all of a sudden, he crossed his arms and scowled at the taller man.

“So go on, ask your damn questions.” Russ was practically snarling at this point. He could take them all. He would never admit it, but a part of him he thought was long since gone actually hoped Milt would follow his order this time. Milt was always going on about trust, partnership, and all that crap, so this would be the perfect time for everything to come clean and he can finally figure out what brought Milton “Mr. Fucking Perfect” Chamberlain to Battle Creek.

And maybe Russ would stop feeling so lonely.

Disappointingly, Milt just shook his head and smiled bitterly. “Now I know you think nothing bad ever had ever happened to me. And nothing probably had, compared to whatever occurred to you. I may seem like an asshole to you, but I’m not that much of a hypocrite. I won’t ask you questions, if you stop asking me.”

Unfortunately for the both of them, Russ wasn’t the human out of the two. He knew he could never stop himself from learning what Milt’s deal was.  

 ***************************

Russ scoffed as he followed Milt to the van. After their conversation in the safe house, Russ almost forgot how much of a bunch of bullshit the agent really was.

 _Our soul._ Russ was telling the truth when he said he didn’t know what the hell Milt was talking about, he hasn’t had a soul in a very, very long time. It disappeared when he got bit. He actually forgot what it was like to have one.

Russ stared at the young man on the other side of the van and for a second he thought he could feel a something spark inside of him.

Maybe he was thirsty, he hasn’t had animal blood in a while. He could probably annoy Milt into getting him coffee from his office–the good kind, not the shitty Battle Creek kind.

“You’re a good person, Detective Agnew.”

“And you, Agent Chamberlain,” the vampire smirked at the other man, “you’re the devil.”

 

 

 

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Carmilla](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3860227) by [himitsutsubasa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/himitsutsubasa/pseuds/himitsutsubasa)
  * [Sangre Dulce](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3860638) by [himitsutsubasa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/himitsutsubasa/pseuds/himitsutsubasa)




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